TMV in the 2nd Degree
by Spudzmom
Summary: Imprinting: "...when you see her, everything changes. All of a sudden it's not gravity holding you to the planet, it's her. Nothing else matters. You would do anything, be anything for her." A lovely concept to be sure, but this is Paul Lahote and Bella Swan we're talking about. Rated for language and eventual content of the citrus variety.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the original plot points. No copyright infringement intended.

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"All right, mopey, what the fuck's wrong with you?"

I'd been so numb, my mind shrouded in such a dense fog since Edward left, I almost didn't register the voice or the nudge to my shoulder as I stared at the bonfire and the tiny, glowing sparks that swirled and drifted into the inky night sky. However, the odds of this particular person ever speaking _directly_ to me were so slim, the shock of it actually happening was enough to get my attention and I turned to take a look.

Yep, no mistake, he was speaking to me all right, and as the moments ticked by, his brows inched up, making it clear he expected a response.

So I gave him one; the only one that occurred to me in the shock of the moment. "What do you care?"

He raised a shirtless shoulder in a careless shrug as the fire-light danced in tones of gold and shadow on his smooth, firm skin. Then I watched as the muscles of his bicep flexed when he lifted the amber bottle of beer to his mouth. Seemed he was taking his time to come up with an answer.

 _'Damn…those lips… Wonder if they'd feel as soft as they look?'_

The random thought wandered through my addled brain as I continued to watch him, and caught me off guard. Yeah, sure, he was hot. Looking at him now — _really seeing him_ for the first time — even I had to admit as much. But he was also a world-class douchebag, so until this very moment, I'd never given him so much as a second look or thought. And until now, aside from sniping nasty comments about me from a distance, he'd always seemed happy to avoid me too.

 _'What a waste… If only he'd keep his mouth shut…'_

He rested his forearm on his jean-clad thigh, the bottle of beer now hanging loosely from long, lithe fingers as he muttered, "I dunno that I _do_ care, leech-lover. Call it curiosity, I guess." Then he turned his head and his eyes — a mesmerizing mix of hazel flecked with amber — locked with mine. It was the first time our eyes had ever met, and I didn't know what he was feeling, but for me, it felt as though I was caught by a force greater than either one of us. I simply couldn't look away.

I heard my breath hitch and saw his nostrils flare, the look in his eyes intense, the emotions in them warring between passion and disbelief.

"I - I don't — what is…" I stuttered, suddenly feeling strange and desperate _and fulfilled?_ without having the first clue as to why.

His brows finally gathered in a deep frown and he hissed a quiet "Motherfucker…"

He stood then, and grabbed my arm, his grasp surprisingly gentle as he urged me to my feet. "Come on," he muttered lowly, "we need to talk."

My gaze darted to Jake where he stood talking and laughing with Sam, Embry, and Quil about thirty feet away, by the drink coolers. I could have called out to him, but he looked so carefree and it'd been so long since he'd looked that way… I couldn't bring myself to spoil it. Not just yet. Not unless I had to; and for some strange reason, I didn't feel the need. I didn't feel threatened.

So I followed, nearly having to jog to keep up with his long strides as he led the way up the sandy, rock-strewn path to the parking lot on the ridge above. As we passed a bin, he tossed his beer bottle and continued on until we reached what I could only guess was his truck.

Although obviously not new, it was a surprisingly well-kept, glossy red, late-model Dodge crew-cab. The alarm chirped as he pressed the key fob, the headlights flashing in two quick pulses as the door-locks released. Then he opened the passenger side and held it wide with a muttered, "Get in."

As I shrugged my blanket up on my shoulders, I finally snapped out of my stupor enough to glare at him. "First of all, you haven't told me why we need to talk. Secondly, I can't just leave. I came here with Jake!"

He rolled his eyes, plucked a phone from his jeans pocket and made a call. "Black, the lee— Swan's with me. I'll bring her back in a few. No, for fuck's sake, there's no problem, we're just talking." He sighed and tipped his head back, looking put out by whatever Jake was saying. "Sure…whatever…see ya," he ended in a monotone.

He arched a brow and gave me a pointed look as he tucked the phone back in his pocket. " _Now_ will you get in?"

I narrowed my eyes because that seemed a little too easy. Jake hadn't been letting me out of his sight lately. "What'd he say?"

His tone was bored as he answered, "He said if I hurt you, he'd kick my fuckin' ass. Happy?"

"Marginally," I grumbled while trying to haul myself into the lifted truck while keeping hold on my blanket. Sometimes it really sucked being short.

As I struggled, I heard a snicker and felt his warm hands on my waist as he boosted me into the seat.

With a scowl, I settled in as he walked around, slid into the driver's seat, and closed his door.

"Where we going?" I asked, my tone wary.

He turned on the stereo, pushed in a Foo Fighters CD, turned the volume to low, and leaned back in his seat. "Nowhere, I just figured this would be more comfortable and private than where we were."

I felt my eyes narrow as I looked at him. "You hate me, so why the sudden interest? Why on earth would the two of us need privacy?"

Instead of answering, he leaned forward, reached into a small cooler on the floorboard, and took out a bottle of water. "Want one?"

"Sure."

He handed it to me and took out one for himself, not bothering to answer me until he'd taken a drink and placed the bottle in the console. "I don't _hate_ you, not really." He glanced at me, undoubtedly noting my arched brow and the 'I call bullshit' expression presently adorning my features.

"True," he conceded with a flip of his hand, "I can't say I liked you… If ya want the honest truth, I was fuckin' disgusted by you. Just the thought of you gettin' all up in it with a walking, talking, putrid corpse … _fuck_ ," he said with a full-body shudder and a curled lip. "How could you _do_ something like that? I mean, fucker's been dead for how long?" He snorted. "Sorry babe, but that shit blows right by any definition of kink and straight into sicko territory."

I blinked.

It had been quite a while since I'd really felt _anything_ emotionally, including anger, but at this moment? At _this_ moment I knew exactly what I was feeling.

Pissed off.

With an icy calm, I placed my bottle of water in the cup holder, then looked at him. "Is this what you dragged me away to talk about, Lahote?" I hissed. "All your little verbal jabs and the shitty names you call me every chance you get aren't enough for you anymore? Feeling the need, for some reason, to make it more up close and personal now?" The volume of my voice had risen with every word I spoke until the last was almost a shout. Then, before he could speak a word, the flat of my palm connected with his cheek with a sharp crack. "Well, screw you, you monumental prick!"

While steadfastly ignoring my throbbing hand, I scrambled for the door lock and then the handle, but before I could get my door open, he wound an arm around me and pulled me back toward him. I took another swing at him but he caught my wrist, and it took a couple seconds for me to register the grin on his face. Then he was laughing with his inky, perfect brows raised. "Do you always ask questions without any intention of waiting for an answer?" He turned me loose and muttered, "Damn, girl, and people say _I_ have a temper."

In the low light from the dash, I could see my hand-print on his dimpled cheek, and he still had a maddening smirk on his face. "Fine," I growled, "I'll hear you out, but keep in mind Jake'll kick your ass if I ask him to."

He picked up his water and leaned back with a chuckle. "He can try, baby-cakes… But fine," he continued when I glared, "I get it, no more cheap shots about your love of corpses."

I shot him my best death glare. "They aren't corpses and besides, they're gone. They're in the past, so leave them there."

He dipped his head. "Fine."

"Okay."

He scoffed. "Okay."

I snatched my bottle of water up, wrenched the top off and took a drink, then placed it back in the holder and looked at him. "Think you can get to the point now? I'm waiting."

With renewed frustration, he raked both hands through his hair, then laced his fingers together at the back of his neck with a groan as he quietly hissed, "Fuck, _how_ do I say this…?" His arms dropped and he clutched the wheel with both hands as he stared out the windshield, seeming to steel himself. "Okay," he finally gusted out on a heavy breath, "there's just no easy way to say this, so I'm just gonna go balls out. I…Swan, I—" He tipped his head back with a low growl as he ground out his next words, "I imprinted on you." He turned to look at me. "Back there, at the bonfire when our eyes met? I … imprinted." Now he looked almost vulnerable as he asked, "You know what that means, right?"

An icy sensation rushed through my body as words failed me.

First a vampire swears I'm his mate, promises eternal love, then dumps me, and now this…?!

I felt detached, disconnected, numb.

 _Shock…_

 _This must be shock._

It must've been, because I _could not_ hold back the insane laugh that bubbled up, for anything, as much as I wanted to.

It started out slow; a disbelieving, hysterical cackle which quickly escalated into tear-inducing, shoulder-shaking, abdominal-straining, unhinged laughter that I could barely breathe through, much less get any words past.

And when, after a few moments of this insanity, I chanced a glance at him, the gaping, affronted look on his face didn't help my situation — _at all_. I was nearly choking with laughter as I bent at the waist, one hand braced on the dash and the other clutching my stomach.

It was irrational, and inappropriate, and painful ... but I couldn't stop.

Then he scowled and growled, "What … the … fuck…" after a couple minutes of this.

At that, I squealed with more rib-aching laughter and wiped tears from my eyes, trying desperately to get some measure of control. "Sorry, sorry…" I wheezed when the choking, irrational waves of mirth began to slow enough for me to speak, "Oh god, I know I shouldn't…" Another wave hit and I bent over my lap again, my whole body shaking with silent, gut-cramping peals of laughter.

"Great … just fuckin' great," I heard him grumble. "I share with you the single most profound, mind-fucking event in my life — aside from exploding into a giant wolf — and you laugh?" I heard the hurt in his voice and tried like hell to sober up. I knew my reaction wasn't rational at all, and that even though he was a major asshole to me 99% of the time, he didn't deserve to be hurt this way…

I truly felt bad so I was trying, _desperately_ , to gain control.

But this is Paul Lahote we're talking about, so the next words out of his mouth shouldn't have come as a surprise to me. "Not only do I get cosmically stuck with leech left-overs, but she has the nerve to laugh about it…"

I'll give him one thing — he certainly knew how to stop a laughing fit in an instant. Now I was back to being blood-vessel-burstingly pissed off.

I didn't know there was a being on the planet that could affect me like that, but there he was ladies and gents, sitting in the driver's seat of a red Dodge truck.

"Excuse me? What did you just say?" I hissed as I mopped tears from my cheeks with the cuff of my sleeve. "Stuck with leech left-overs?!" If looks could kill, he'd be dead a few times over. "Well then, I guess you just solved your problem, didn't you, you egotistical, flea-bitten asshole, because this leech _left-over_ ," I sneered, "wants nothing to do with you!"

Astoundingly, he looked genuinely sorry, but I couldn't have cared less at that moment.

"Please wait," he said with a heavy sigh as he reached for me, "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

This time I got the door open, and I hopped out and slammed it before storming toward the path that led back to the beach.

I almost made it too, before I felt a strong arm circle my waist and pluck me off the ground like I weighed nothing. I kicked and tried to land a fist on anything I could reach and he growled while walking back to the truck, "Will you _please_ calm down so we can talk this out? Jesus…"

He sat me back in the passenger's side and closed the door, then started to walk around to his side. As he did, I spotted the keys in the ignition and, with a jolt of vindictive glee, hit the lock button.

His eyes went wide when he heard it and he rushed the last few feet to his door, chanting, "No, no, no … damn it!" when he tried the handle. His palm thumped on the window as I eased over the console and into the driver's seat. "Swan? Bella, c'mon, this isn't fuckin' funny. Open the door."

I raised a brow at him and adjusted the seat. "So, you _do_ know how to use my first name. Pity you couldn't have found some manners earlier, Lahote," I said as I turned the key. The truck smoothly growled to life and he started slapping the glass, yelling, "Don't you dare, Swan. I worked my ass off for this truck! I swear to god, you better not!"

I grabbed the shift lever and put the truck in reverse while giving him a wide grin. He now looked … _distressed_. "Bella? Bella, c'mon, you've had your fun, now let's talk, please? I swear, I'll be nice, the perfect gentleman, all right? I'm sorry. Please?"

Without breaking eye contact, I reached down and released the parking brake with a dull clunk, which he, of course, heard.

Hazel eyes narrowed to slits and he began to shake. "Bella! Fuck! I said I was sorry, damn it! Don't you dare take my truck!"

As I wiggled my fingers in a little wave, from the corner of my eye I saw Jake and the rest of the pack run up from the beach, their eyes wide and mouths gaping as I revved the engine of Paul's truck. He jumped back just in time as the tires screeched when I backed out of the space. Then I threw it in drive, cut the wheel, and fish-tailed out of the parking lot, leaving him standing there, yelling out a loud "Fuck!"

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I was half-way back to Forks, nodding to the beat of _Everlong_ when it dawned on me that I felt … pretty good. To be completely honest, I hadn't felt this good — this _alive_ — in months, and with that realization, I smiled widely as I tapped a rhythm on the top of the steering wheel.

 _'This really is a nice truck; a pleasure to drive. No wonder he's so touchy over it. I should look into getting one.'_

I'll admit it: I was also feeling pretty damn smug. And why shouldn't I? After all, I'd managed to get one over on the most volatile shifter in the pack. And really, he had it coming.

 _'Leech left-overs, indeed…'_ I thought with a scoff. _  
_

Of course, I should've known not to get too comfortable. Where Isabella Swan goes, trouble follows and sure enough, mere moments later, something bright caught my eye in the rear-view mirror.

My nose scrunched as I squinted to sharpen the image. "No … Is that…?"

It was still distant, but rapidly gaining, and within moments, the unmistakable flashing blue and red were just a few car-lengths behind me. My heart sank.

"No, no, no," I denied, "He didn't. Please tell me he didn't…"

Two short bursts of the siren removed all doubt, and I felt all my blood drain to my feet as I signaled, slowed, and pulled over to meet what was sure to be my doom.

"Charlie … is going to _kill_ me."

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 **A/N:**

To explain the title of the story, according to Washington state law:

Taking motor vehicle (TMV) without permission in the second degree.

(1) A person is guilty of taking a motor vehicle without permission in the second degree if he or she, without the permission of the owner or person entitled to possession, intentionally takes or drives away any automobile or motor vehicle, whether propelled by steam, electricity, or internal combustion engine, that is the property of another, or he or she voluntarily rides in or upon the automobile or motor vehicle with knowledge of the fact that the automobile or motor vehicle was unlawfully taken.

(2) Taking a motor vehicle without permission in the second degree is a class C felony.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the original plot points and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.

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A/N: Hope you enjoy it. Let me know via review, yeah?

Light and love,

~Spudz

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 **Chapter 2**

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"I still can't believe the asshole called the cops on you," Jake grumbled as he teetered back and forth on the back legs of my desk chair.

"Why? Because he's such a _nice guy_?" I sneered as I finished up the essay I was writing, while ignoring the pang in my chest that said it was somehow _wrong_ to dislike Lahote. I should be able to hate the jerk in peace, right?

This newly acquired sense of guilt, or _whatever_ it was, could go suck it.

He stopped tipping the chair for a beat then inclined his head as he resumed and admitted, "Okay, I see your point."

I snorted as I closed my notebook and set it beside me on the bed. "I'm surprised Charlie let you up here," I said. And I really was because the man had been like some kind of hard-core prison warden since bailing me out four days ago. I mean…geez, it was just…just…a little misunderstanding! It wasn't as though I was _really_ out to steal the guy's truck…

Unfortunately, the WSP officer who stopped me didn't see it that way.

And neither did Charlie, apparently.

Jake grinned. "You shouldn't be surprised, Bells. Even Super-max allows visitors. It keeps the population's morale up."

I shot him my best death glare. "Oh, ha, ha, that was hilarious. But really, with the way he's been acting, be glad he didn't insist on a cavity search before letting you up here."

Jake cringed. "Yeah, could'a done without that mental picture, thanks," he said with a shiver of revulsion. "So, when do you go to court?"

I rubbed my aching temples. "Tomorrow at one o'clock."

"What are the charges?"

I pinned him with a glare and his eyes went wide. "What? I'm just curious!"

I sighed and grumbled, "Taking a motor vehicle without permission in the 2nd degree and driving without a license 'cause mine was left in your car."

He whistled lowly. "Shit, that's kinda serious."

My stomach rolled and I nodded. "Yep, it can be, but Charlie thinks the judge might go easy since I don't have any kind of a record. Not even a speeding ticket or an unexcused absence at school, so there's that."

My phone buzzed on my nightstand and I grabbed it to read the incoming text. Then my temper instantly spiked and I had to grit my teeth. "Gah! He is _such_ a raging douchebag!"

Jake looked startled. "What? Who's it from?"

I tossed him my phone and threw myself back on my pillows. "See for yourself."

He caught it and seconds later, burst into laughter, cementing my opinion that teen guys are all insensitive pricks. "I'm _so_ glad you're amused," I seethed as he wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

He spoke through lingering chuckles, "I'm sorry Bells, but that shit's kinda funny." He grinned at me. "Did you read them?"

"Only the first one," I grumbled with a scowl.

He held my phone at eye level and cleared his throat, preparing to read aloud.

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 _Dear Isabella,_ he recited with a quick smirk in my direction,

 _In the spirit of being helpful,'_ he continued reading in his most formal voice, _"I thought I would send along a reading list tailored to your potential change in circumstances._

 _No need to thank me,_

 _-Lahote._

 _Shiv Crafting For Dummies_

 _Advanced Shiv Making (It's not just a toothbrush anymore)_

 _Rocking The Orange (Accessorizing the suit)_

 _Prison Economics (Trade value of Ramen and cigarettes)_

 _Yard Time (Making the most of that 1 hour a day)_

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When he finished reading, he collapsed into laughter again, nearly tipping the chair over backwards in the process, and I found myself wishing I could kill with my eyes alone. _'Laser eyes… Yeah, that would be awesome right about now.'_

"You're being a jerk, Jake," I deadpanned.

His lips twitched as he pressed them together but he broke seconds later, grinning widely. Then he held up a hand, palm out and used his most placating tone, "I'm sorry, you're right, I shouldn't laugh."

"No, you shouldn't," I groused. "I mean, I could be in serious trouble here!"

He sighed, then nodded. "Well, whatever happens, I'm here for you. You'll get through this, and Bells, keep in mind your dad's the freakin' Chief of Police, so I really don't think you need to worry."

I sat up and scrubbed my face with both hands then nodded. "God, I really hope you're right."

He got up and sat on the edge of my bed then pulled me into a tight hug. "I am. You'll see."

I pulled away and leaned back against my headboard because as much as I loved Jake as a friend, it felt weird being that close to him. It just suddenly felt… _wrong_. "Thanks, Jake."

"Anytime," he said as he stood. "I need to go patrol now though so I'll see you tomorrow when you get back?"

I frowned. "You mean, _if_ I get back."

"Bella…" he drew out my name like an admonishment and I waved him off.

"Fine, fine, I'll see you _when_ I get back.

When he left, I picked up a book to read but put it down five minutes later when Charlie poked his head in the door. "Bells, I was planning to drive you to Port Angeles for court tomorrow, but I'm too swamped with all the recent missing persons cases and animal attacks. I have to meet with Clallam County Sheriff's Department and Seattle PD, and I can't just cancel or postpone."

My eyes were wide as I stared at him. I was going to have to face this ... alone?!

He must've read the panic in my expression because he held up a placating hand. "You won't be alone. I called Billy. He agreed to go with you, and he spoke to Sam so someone reliable will be driving. They'll be here at 8:00 am to pick you up."

I frowned. "Who exactly? And why so early? My case isn't until 1:00."

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, then gusted out a heavy, tired sigh as he answered, "Not exactly sure who, Bella, but Billy said it would be someone trustworthy, and I trust him. Besides, you're eighteen, old enough to face the consequences of your actions without someone holding your hand, and I'm just too swamped and tired to argue.

"As for the pick-up time, you need to get there early to go through security and check in with the registrar. It's a felony charge, Isabella. Not exactly traffic court," he grumbled.

I swallowed hard and nodded, knowing I wasn't exactly in any position to argue. Besides, if Billy — my godfather — said they'd be trustworthy, then they would be. "Okay, Dad," I quietly agreed.

"All right," He patted the frame of the door, "Get some sleep and be sure to call me as soon as you finish up tomorrow."

"O—Okay, Dad," I said while swallowing back my nerves and nausea. "Good night."

"Night, Bells," he said and closed the door.

I scooted down under the covers, switched off my lamp and stared into the dark. It was going to be a long, long night.

The next morning, I got up, got ready, choked down one piece of toast, and perched on the edge of the couch to await Billy and my ride.

I'll admit, I was nervous, almost to the point of tears, so I kinda jumped when the knock on the front door finally came. But when I opened it…

 _'Oh, hell no…'  
_

"What are you doing here?" I growled with my eyes narrowed to slits. I mean, the text last night was bad enough, but to show his face here, on _this_ day especially?!

His perfect, white-toothed grin was wolfish as he lazily leaned against the post of my front porch, well-defined arms crossed over his chest. "Good morning to you too, Isabella."

Something fluttered in my stomach and I grudgingly admitted, he looked good. _Really good._ He was dressed in snug, dark-washed jeans, black Dr. Marten boots, and a dark green button down shirt, untucked, with the sleeves rolled to the elbows.

My heart sped and I swallowed … _hard_.

 _'God, if only he wasn't such a jerk…'_

I tore my gaze away and gave myself a mental slap as I looked toward the driveway, hoping against all hope… But sure enough, there was that shiny, red Dodge with Billy Black waiting in the front passenger seat.

Eyes wide, I looked back at a smirking Paul Lahote. "You're my ride?!"

That wolfish grin flashed and he drawled, "That's me, sweetheart." He glanced at his wristwatch and tsk'ed as he tapped it with one long finger. "Time's ticking, young lady, chop, chop. We need to get going." Arresting hazel eyes met mine and he smirked. "Don't wanna piss off the Judge by running late, now do we?"

Yep, it's official ladies and gents: The universe _hates_ me.

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A/N: Again, if you're enjoying it, or have any comments or questions, let me know in a review!

~Spudz


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the original plot points and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.**

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 _Previously: Eyes wide, I (Bella) looked back at a smirking Paul Lahote. "You're my ride?!"_

 _That wolfish grin flashed. "That's me, sweetheart." He glanced at his wristwatch and tsk'ed as he tapped it with one long finger. "Time's ticking, young lady, chop, chop. We need to get going." Hazel eyes met mine and he smirked. "Don't wanna piss off the Judge by running late, now do we?"_

 _Yep, it's official: The universe hates me._

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 **Chapter 3**

"Oh… Paul, what happened?" Judge Tolson's rather matronly secretary said, her tone laced with disappointment as I closed the door leading to the packed courthouse hallway.

"I'm not here for me, Mrs. Baker, I swear," I said with my hands raised as I crossed the room and stopped in front of her desk.

She eyed me for a moment in that way all mothers had. That _'Uh huh, sure'_ way that always made me feel about an inch tall. My mother was a fucking master at it. "In that case, what can I do for you?"

"I need to talk to Judge Tolson before he officially starts his day." She pursed her lips and I knew she was about to refuse, so I kept on, "Please? It's about a case on his docket today and it's kinda important or else I wouldn't ask, I swear."

She slowly shook her head. "I don't know. You know how he is when his mornings are disturbed…"

"Please? It won't take a lot of time." She still looked reluctant so I pulled out the big guns. "It has to do with Chief Swan's daughter."

Her brows shot up, and I knew I had her. Then her eyes narrowed. "What did you do, young man?"

I felt myself scowl.

 _'Why'd everyone always assume shit?'_

"What?! I—why's it gotta be _me_ that did something? _She_ jacked my truck. That's why she's here, but I need to talk to the judge about it before he hears the case."

"Are you trying to get her in more trouble? Because this is highly irregular—"

Now I was getting pissed. Jesus, I hadn't been in trouble for at least a year… "Look, I'm tryin' to help the girl out by speaking on her behalf, okay? Shit…"

She leaned back and crossed her arms. "You know I don't appreciate that kind of language."

My jaw clenched and I took some slow breaths. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I'm just frustrated because I'm trying to do something good here but I'm automatically suspect."

She eyed me for another long moment, then nodded and rose from her seat. "All right, Paul. I'll see what I can do. Go ahead and take a seat," she said before knocking and entering the Judge's office door.

I took my usual seat and tapped my fingers on the arm of it while my knee bounced. Fucking nerves. I hated this fucking place and had thought—had hoped—I'd never have to see it again. But here I was and I had no one but myself to blame.

I mean, sure, I could've stayed away, not volunteered to drive today, and let shit play out however it would, but my fucking conscience, _'Or the damn imprint bullshit'_ , wouldn't let me.

She came out a few minutes later and gestured to the judge's door. "Go on in, Paul."

I got up and was across the room in three quick strides, but when I got to the judge's door, she touched my arm and I paused to look at her.

"I apologize," she said, surprising the shit outta me. "I shouldn't have assumed, especially since you've kept yourself out of trouble for quite a while now. For that, I'm proud of you," she finished with a warm smile.

"Wow… Uh, thanks, Mrs. Baker. It means a lot."

"You're welcome. Now get in there. You don't have a lot of time."

"Yes, Ma'am."

I knocked and paused, then entered the familiar office of 'Old Ironsides' aka Judge Frederick Tolson. He was eating breakfast, and the air of the darkly paneled space was heavy with the scents of bacon, coffee, and shelves of old law texts.

The combination brought back bad memories of having my ass legally handed to me—on more than one occasion—and made my stomach churn. God, I hated this fucking place…

"Take a seat, Mr. Lahote," he said without lifting his gaze from the _Seattle Times_ he was reading as he ate.

"Thank you, sir," I said as I eased myself into the chair centered in front of his desk. Then I waited. I knew better than to speak until he finished up and deigned to look at me. He was an asshole about it—a lesson I had learned early on in my dealings with him.

Slowly, he chewed and swallowed the last bite of his sandwich while neatly folding his paper. Then he finished the coffee in his cup, meticulously wiped his mouth on his napkin, gathered the trash from his breakfast, and dropped it in the bin beside his desk.

Then, and only then, did he look at me with grey eyes that, I swear, could strip the flesh right off your bones.

"You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes, sir."

He gave a single nod and sat back in his cushy, black leather chair, then glanced at the gold watch on his wrist. "You have the floor and ten minutes. Proceed."

"There's a case on your docket today for Isabella Swan." His right brow twitched at that so I knew I had his full attention. "She kinda jacked my truck one night and I called the cops on her. A state trooper stopped her."

"Is this Chief Charlie Swan's daughter we're speaking about?"

"Yes, sir."

"You know the girl? Are you friends?"

I shook my head. "Not really. We'd never talked until the night she jacked my truck but we hung out with some of the same people for a few months before that."

"So you were acquaintances."

"Yes, sir."

"It seems pretty clear-cut to me. She was arrested for stealing your truck and now she's here for her case to be heard. What exactly do you feel you have to add? I'm assuming, knowing Charlie as I do, you got your truck back in the same condition it was taken in?"

"I did, sir, but I want to talk about her punishment because I was kinda pissed when I called the cops and I…" Jesus, this was hard… "I kinda regret it now."

He looked doubtful so I tried to explain.

"See, my truck was parked at the beach. We'd been in it talking…"

The dick arched a brow and I raised my hands.

"That's _all_ we were doing, sir. I'll swear it on a stack of bibles."

"Not necessary. Keep going. Time's ticking."

"Okay, so, she pissed me off pretty bad, so I said some shit which pissed her off. Long story short, she ended up locking me out of my truck. Then she started it. I begged her not to take it, ya know? I mean, you know how I grew up. I never had shit to speak of, and now here she was about to take off with the only nice thing I'd ever had—something I'd worked my ass off to get, ya know? So yeah, I lost my shit when she split with it, and wanted some payback, so I called the cops on her."

"And now you regret it."

I nodded. "Yeah, I mean, kinda. I mean, she shouldn't have done it, you know? But… I don't want her to be in serious trouble over it. Because she didn't hurt my truck or anything, and I got it right back."

He sighed. "So what is it you're asking here, Paul, because I'm unclear on the point of your visit. If you're asking that the charges be dropped, I can't do that at this point, I'm sorry. It's gone too far, especially since the State Police are involved."

"No, I know, I just… Well, sir, I was thinking that maybe you could just assign community service or something and call it good? Maybe with the Reservation Community Center, tutoring the kids like you had me do this last time? I've heard she's really smart. She'd do a lot of good there." I met his shudder-inducing grey gaze. "And then I was thinking, when she completes her hours, you could maybe wipe her record? You know, since she's never ever been in trouble. I just… I hate the thought that I was responsible for screwing that up for her, ya know?"

Old Ironsides smirked and it was enough to make a lesser man piss his pants. "You were just talking in that truck, huh?" Then he chuckled.

The prick.

"Stack of bibles, remember?"

With a heavy sigh he waved me off, then glanced at his watch. "I'll see what I can do. Now get out of my office and I hope to never see you in here again. Unless it's in the capacity of some form of gainful employment."

"That won't be a problem, sir."

The only comment I got to that was a grunt, and I got the fuck outta there.

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XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

.

"For this infraction, I assign one hundred hours of community service at the Quileute Community Center tutoring children, Miss Swan. Upon presentation of proof that you've satisfactorily completed your hours, I order that your record be expunged."

The bailiff handed me my file with the details and signed forms, and Judge Tolson banged his gavel. It was sharp and loud, sounding like a shot in the silent courtroom.

I was still shaking with nerves, so I flinched, but I was relieved too. Weak from it, really. It was over, and I'd gotten off with nothing more than community service—tutoring kids.

I couldn't believe my good luck because it was something that I'd thought about volunteering for to get the experience since I want to be a teacher.

And at the end my record would be returned to its previously spotless condition? Hell yes, this was an acceptable outcome, for sure, thank God and every deity that I'd reached out to over the past few days. Fuck, I may have even summoned a demon over this shit. I couldn't be sure.

Judge Tolson cleared his throat and I realized I was still standing there in front of his bench, zoned out like an idiot. "Sorry, sir," I said as I turned on shaky legs and made my way through the little swinging gate to the gallery where Billy was waiting.

When I came alongside him, he'd already turned his chair and we left the courtroom through the double, swinging doors. When we made it to the wide hallway, I glanced over the benches that lined the walls, but didn't see Lahote anywhere. "Have you seen our ride?" I asked Billy.

"No, but he sent me a text and said he'd be waiting in his truck."

 _'So much for the wolf's devotion to his imprint,'_ I thought, feeling sorry for myself over being cosmically assigned such an asshole for a mate. I mean, Jesus, what did I do? Drown puppies and kittens in my last life, or something?

With a sigh and a nod, I waved toward the lifts. "Shall we?"

"Yep," he said while starting to roll, "Let's get outta here, kid."

When we finally made it through the vast, crowded parking lot to the infamous truck, Lahote was at least kind enough to hop out and get Billy into the truck. While he folded and stowed Billy's chair in the back, I hoisted myself into the lifted monstrosity and settled into the seat behind Billy.

Lahote got in and started the truck without comment, then pulled out of the space.

"You stayed in your truck this whole time?" I asked because it was now three in the afternoon.

He stopped and paid the parking attendant, then pulled out of the lot onto the surface street. "I went for lunch around twelve. The rest of the time I spent in the truck reading."

"You can read?" Okay, I was being mean. I'd spotted the copy of _Catch 22_ sitting on the seat, but I couldn't seem to help myself.

"Yes, I can read, Princess" he sneered back. Then he glanced in the rearview mirror at me and softened his tone. "How'd it go?"

I scoffed. "Like you care."

"Okay, maybe I don't," he snapped.

I heard Billy sigh. "For God's sake, you two. Can you try to be civil? At least for the time that I'm trapped in a vehicle with you?"

"I will if he will," I said, admittedly sounding like a grade school brat.

"Me?!" Paul protested, "I'm not the one who decided to be bitchy, Princess."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have even been here if it weren't for you."

He scoffed a laugh. "You're joking, right? Did I tell you to steal my truck?"

"Well, you _were_ being an overbearing asshole as I recall."

"Yeah? Maybe it's because I had just told you you're my imprint," —I heard Billy choke— "something, oh, I dunno, sort of _life-changing_ ," Paul sneered as he continued, "and you laughed in my face over it. How 'bout that?"

I sighed and looked away, because, yeah, my response had been awful, especially to something that made him so vulnerable.

And I _knew_ it made him vulnerable. I'd known it before I'd ever talked to Paul because Jake had filled me in to appease my curiosity about the wolves in general.

I knew as Paul's imprint, I had him by the proverbial balls, something I was sure the proud Paul Lahote was having a tough time with. So yeah, laughing in his face when he'd told me hadn't been my finest moment. In fact, it had been really shitty, and had probably hurt him. Which, naturally, someone like Lahote would never admit, so he'd responded in anger instead.

Still, even realizing all of that, we were _here_ now, and I was having a hard time seeing a way to get past this point of mutual hostility in order to manage a civil conversation.

I suppose it would help if I could only find something redeeming about him—I mean, besides his looks, because that _definitely_ wasn't a problem. The man was fine as hell.

"Okay," I finally conceded with a sigh, "it went better than expected, considering how bad it could've been.

"The judge gave me one hundred hours of community service tutoring kids at the Quileute Community Center. He also said my record would be wiped clean when I'm done."

Hazel eyes glanced at me in the rearview mirror. Was that _relief_ I saw in them?

"Oh. Good. That's… good," he said. Then he turned up the music and fell silent for the rest of the drive.

That glance had me curious though, because the more I looked back on it, the surer I was that it _was_ relief I saw reflecting back at me.

Almost like he truly did care…

.

.

.

 **Till next time...**


End file.
